What really counted was the possibility of escape, a leap of freedom, out of the implacable ritual, a wild run for it that would give whatever chance for hope there was. Of course, hope meant being cut down on some street corner, as you ran like mad, by a random bullet. But when I really thought it through, nothing was going to allow me such a luxury. Everything was against it; I would just be caught up in the machinery again.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11454 | 2020-07-18 10:17:25 | 87.76 | 95% |
| 6958 | 2020-01-10 23:26:37 | 91.42 | 96% |
| 6051 | 2019-12-28 23:21:57 | 92.80 | 95% |
| 5731 | 2019-12-20 14:27:29 | 87.26 | 96% |